Sunday
by Heart of the Matter
Summary: It was Sunday, which meant no work, no play and just relaxation. He loved Sundays. "You've got to be kidding me!"


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**Disclaimer - These are not my characters. I just like to play around with them.**

**Sunday**

The alarm buzzed annoyingly beside the bed as a hand shot out of the covers to smack it off, rumpled blond locks rising up to check the time, then falling back down in languor. The stabbing rays of the light broke into the room through the sides of the curtains, dimly illuminating the emerald room and all the grandeur it could house with what the best of muggle decorators could accomplish.

The bedroom was thickly carpeted in plain, pristine beige, covering each and every spot of the floor. A large window, looking out into the street held a window seat with a rich, evergreen cushioning. On either side of this were bookcases filled to the brim with muggle and magical books. The window on the opposite side of the room, facing the back yard, had a coffee table pressed up to the wall under it, with plush armchairs on each end. The door was in one corner of the room, and the wall joined to it held a large dresser and many closets attached to its side, continuing on until the opposite end of the wall. On the other side of the dresser, the one closer to the door, was a full length mirror, the emptiness of the remaining wall was covered in magical photographs.

Adjacent to the closets was another door, one which led to the master bathroom.

The remaining wall, opposite to the one with the dresser, held a king sized bed, framed in an antique gold design which had intricate curves and carvings in it. The mattress was covered in a dark beige bed cover, and on top of it, a man lying on his stomach, submerged in the depths of his emerald duvet, head resting on soft, feathery pillows of green and beige.

Draco Malfoy lifted himself with his arms, hair falling to the sides of his face and pushed himself off the bed. Clad in black pajama pants only, chest bare, he walked to the window and opened his curtains to look outside. The weather was pleasant at the moment, with clear blue skies, yet Draco had a strange feeling about today. He turned away from the street, pulling the curtains away from the opposite window and getting a glimpse of his backyard before walking into the washroom to get freshened up. It was Sunday, which meant no work, no play and just relaxation.

He loved Sundays.

Draco went about normal morning routine, washing up, fixing his hair and then making his way downstairs to make himself coffee. Since he was staying in today, he didn't think it necessary to change out of his night clothes. He walked into his kitchen, finely crafted and topped with marble and maple wood, taking out his coffee brewer. He stretched up to take the coffee beans from the back of the top shelf, wondering why in God's name he had put it there in the first place, when it fell forward, and in an effort to stop the beans from spilling, he dropped the brewer on the floor, breaking it. Let's rephrase that: he dropped his _only_ brewer on the floor, breaking it _beyond repair_.

"Great."

Cursing, he walked into his sitting room to check his mail. Flipping through enveloped upon envelopes, he looked up and out of the window in front of him, yawning. The weather was getting warmer and the grass looked dry. Jack White, his neighbor, was leaving for work. A few kids were messing about around his car.

Wait, what? He dropped his mail and went closer to the window, looking out at his beautiful pearl white Lamborghini Murcielago LP640. Four boys were huddled around it, screwing off its hubcaps while a fifth was holding a license plate under his arm. Draco smacked his forehead in annoyance and ran out of his house.

"SHIT!"

He ran down his garden path and jumped over the fence, not bothering to waste time in opening the gate, "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing to my car?"

The boys turned to look at him, and ran off down the street, his license plate, and two hubcaps in hand. Draco smacked his hand around his pants wondering where the hell his pockets had gone when he realized that he hadn't changed and that his wand was still inside.

"Oh screw this." He ran off, hot on their tails, all the while cursing under his breath. He started to breathe heavily; running so early in the morning without a coffee boost was pure torture. _How can those kids continue to run?! _He squinted in the quickly rising sun to look more clearly towards the boys. _Freaking wheelies! No freaking wonder!_

In his anger, he didn't notice the crack in the pavement and Draco stumbled, twisting his ankle and cutting his bare, little toe deeply.

"Mother of-" he turned around to read the sign post nearest to him, "Six blocks? Six freaking blocks?!"

Damning the world to hell, he lifted himself up and limped six blocks down back to his car, and inspected it for other damages before going down into his house and fixing up his foot. He ran his hand along the windshield when he noticed something attached to it.

"Fifty pounds. Missing license pla- Fuck this. I hate muggles." He balled up the ticket and gritted his teeth, trying to walk into his home as calmly as possible. What a relaxing Sunday.

He threw the ticket onto his table and picked up his mail from the ground, chucking each envelope aside in anger once he was done inspecting it, until he came across a finely decorated one which had the words 'We invite you' printed on it in fancy calligraphy. He ripped open the paper and pulled out a card.

_Diana Risbridge weds Antone Sayle_

"You've got to be kidding me," he looked at the photograph of the couple that was printed on the card, "You broke up with me because you didn't fucking _believe in marriage_!"

Draco ripped the card to shreds and then shoved it into his bin before turning around so that he could go find his wand- when the doorbell rang. Groaning, he went back down the stairs and opened the door angrily and was suddenly assaulted by the weight of a body over him. He stumbled back and thankfully, his back hit a wall, otherwise he would have fallen over.

Looking down, he noticed a wild mess of chestnut and underneath them, chocolate eyes, now looking back at him, and for the first time in three days, and definitely for the first time today, he grinned.

"You're back a day early!"

"Do I ever miss a chance to spend Sunday's with you?"

"Thank Merlin. You have no idea how bad it was for the first few hours."

"I know. How can your days be anything without me?"

He grinned wider, not even able to frown at the memory of the morning, "No you have no idea! It was seriously horrible! But all those things happening, just makes it better seeing you Hermione," and he leaned down and kissed her.

Hermione moved her hands from his chest to his shoulders and then around his neck, and he tightened his grip around her, pulling her body flush against him. Her boots collided with his feet and he flinched slightly, but she noticed it and pushed away, looking down and gasping.

"Oh my God Draco! What the hell did you do?" she stared in surprise at the deep gash on his toe and the skin above his ankle, quickly turning a shade of purple.

She moved a few steps away from him and shrugged out of her jacket while he looked sheepishly at her. Taking off her boots and socks, she walked him slowly to the couch and made him lie down, shutting him up when he protested. She sat, cross-legged, on the opposite end of the couch and took his foot into her lap.

"Tell me about your day," she commanded, and he obeyed.

She placed her hands around his ankles and muttered an incantation. Between his words, he winced, as the muscles repaired themselves and moved back into place. Hermione listened to him speak, and tell her about how he had run six blocks and then limped back, while she got up and fetched the first-aid kit. Sitting back down in the same position, she used a gauze to clean the blood off Draco's skin and gash before she magically healed it too.

She looked up at his face once she was done, but he hadn't noticed. He spoke to her animatedly about how rubbish his morning had been, and she softly massaged his healed foot, laughing at how he'd broken his brewer and comforting him when he told her about his ex-girlfriend. Draco told Hermione about more than just the morning. He revealed his relationship with Diana Risbridge to her. He told her about how he had loved her. They had gone out for two years before he finally gathered his courage and proposed to her. She rejected him, saying that she didn't believe in marriage, and that the disappointment of this proposal would hang over them forever, which is why she had to leave him; and she did leave.

Finding out now, that she was getting married, he wondered why she had said what she had in the past, and whether it was a fault on his part, whether she just hadn't wanted to marry _him_. If so, why? Draco voiced his thoughts and looked pointedly into Hermione's eyes. He hadn't noticed that she had finished healing his foot and was now rubbing it. Embarrassed, he pulled it away and sat up a little, but Hermione moved faster. She crawled up the couch and on top of him, making him lay back down.

He ran his fingers through her hair. It felt soft and clean. The long curls bounced back into place after the passage of his fingers. The style suited her to perfection. He moved his hands over her shoulders and down, feeling the row of buttons and undoing them one at a time. He set his lips to her shoulder and licked its warm, smooth, slight saltiness. She shivered, and he drew her blouse off one of her shoulders, uncovering one breast. He cupped it in his hand as he kissed his way down to it. It was perfect- soft and heavy yet firm and uptilted too. He parted his lips over the nipple, breathed in through his mouth and then out again, and then suckled her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her head came down to rest on his and she made a low sound in her throat. Need, desire, longing throbbed in him with every pulse beat.

He undressed himself and her, until they were both naked. He got off the couch and lifted her in his arms, walking upstairs to his room and laying her gently on the bed. He climbed under the covers and lay down beside her. She was enticingly warm. Draco turned to her, burrowed them both deeper beneath the covers, and touched her again. He set about arousing her with all the skill and patience of which he was capable, using his palms, his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. And all the while he burned for her and for the moment he could mount her and consummate his passion for her again.

Hermione was not idle. Her hands moved over him, always tentatively at first, with growing boldness as he felt her body grow hotter and heard her breathing become more labored. The time had come, he knew at last - and the temptation was to roll over to cover her, to dip his hands beneath her, to spread her legs with his own, to mount her, and to ride them both to completion. But he wanted to make _love_ to her.

He lifted his face and looked down into hers.

"Hermione," he whispered, and he kissed her, lightly, brushing parted lips over hers as she sighed into his mouth.

"Hermione," he said again, "You are so very beautiful."

And he kissed her deeply.

But they were both far gone into sexual passion. He moved onto her and she opened to him, spreading her legs wide, lifting them from the bed and twining them about his. He slid his hands beneath her, positioned himself, and entered her with one glad, slow thrust. At the same moment, she tilted to him and drew him deeper with tightly clenched inner muscles. He slid his hands free, took some of his weight onto his forearms, and lifted his head to look down to her face again. Her eyes smiled dreamily into his.

He lowered his head to the soft spot beneath one of her ears and growled; she tightened her legs about his and her inner muscles clenched about him again.

He loved her slowly and for a long time beneath the warm cocoon of the covers, while the melted rays of the sun penetrated the windows into the room, and danced over the surface of the soft blanket. He loved her until they were both gasping for breath and their bodies slid damply and hotly together. He loved her until she moaned to his every thrust and strained up harder against him.

He brought them both to a swift, pounding climax.

"Draco," she protested sleepily when he rolled away to lay beside her after realizing that his full weight was bearing her down on the mattress. He turned to her and pulled her to him, watching as she slept off the exhaustion of the travel and their climax. Pale colored lights were catching one side of her face while the other lay in shadow. Her curls were tousled.

He kissed her forehead lovingly. He had, it seemed, everything any man could possibly want in his life. But there was something else that he wanted, and he was not at all sure that he would ever have it. He was certainly not going to ask today. Maybe not even tomorrow or the next day.

He was afraid to ask.

He was afraid the answer would be no. And, if it was, he could never ask again.

So the question must wait.

He wanted her love.

**Sundays are first day of school here. Damn. Oh well, that popped up because I'm an a very proposal-y mood (guess why?)! So make me happier and leave me a nice review!**


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